


No One Loves Me, and Neither Do I

by LadyZeppelin1111 (QueenBoudica1770)



Category: Foo Fighters, Hard Rock RPF, Led Zeppelin, Queens of the Stone Age, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, Them Crooked Vultures
Genre: Anal Sex, Funny, Humor, Josh Homme/John Paul Jones - Freeform, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Song: No One Loves Me. And Neither Do I, Them Crooked Vultures - Freeform, Weirdness, what the fuck am I doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25358773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudica1770/pseuds/LadyZeppelin1111
Summary: Them Crooked Vultures: Dave Grohl, John Paul Jones, Josh Homme. Trying to record what would end up being the first song on their cd, No One Loves Me, and Neither Do I.Filthy, shameless porn with an older man and a younger one. Yes, probably wrong and weird and whAaat for some, maybe. But here you go.John Paul Jones/Josh Homme pairing that nobody asked for, but you're getting anyway.No offense or insult meant to any person real or imagined.
Relationships: Dave Grohl/Josh Homme, Josh Homme/John Paul Jones
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Hold Nothing Back For Future Ration

**Author's Note:**

> Jonesy filth flarn flarn filth.
> 
> When you think you're in control and have all your shit together, but you really don't. 
> 
> The geezer with the 2 billion instruments knows what time it is, though. Trust in him, ok?
> 
> I don't know, if I hear more from my muse there may be more chapters. We'll see.

No One Loves Me

1

The studio, 2009  
They were at it again; arguing over time changes yet again, while trying to record the Them Crooked Vultures debut album. Dave used the time they were disagreeing to suck down more water. Playing drums satisfied him more than anything else, but the physical strain was real, just as the raised voices were getting real. "Guys, come on," he piped up from the drum kit. "Can't we all just get along?" he said half-jokingly, tossing his sweat-damp dark hair. 

"All right," Josh Homme sighed, fidgeting and rolling his blue eyes. "I still say we need to go round another time before it changes up. It don't feel right."

John cast the slightest hint of a look of triumph before they all started up the song again, his nimble fingers working their way down the fretboard of his bass. After playing bass since the early 60s, he liked to think he knew a thing or two about feel.

Josh, on the other hand, was used to being the one with the final say, having been the one constant in Queens of the Stone Age near the past couple decades. He was still so excited to be a part of anything THE John Paul Jones was involved in, like who wouldn't? Probably the most talented human to touch a musical instrument, and was in Led Zeppelin, the greatest band in the history of rock and roll. But once he got over the quiet, John Paul Jones could be a snappy little terror if he was convinced he was right. Thing is, Josh could be stubborn if he felt he was right, which led to another animated discussion such as what just occurred. 

Dave Grohl was just happy to be playing drums, having tired himself out being the frontman of the Foo Fighters and wanted to get back to his first love. He also hated confrontations. Once they went over the piece in question, which Dave had to admit did sound pretty killer, an expectant silence fell over the room.

"Well," Josh blew out a long breath. "I guess it can work. But it should go.." and he demonstrated the chorus change quickly on the guitar. Jonesy accepted the input and followed along easily-- this definitely wasn't his first rodeo.

Once it was all put together, it DID feel good, great in fact, leaving the three excited, hopeful, jubilant even. This could work, this could be _huge_. As the time grew late and everyone was getting sweaty and coated in cranky, it was decided they would call it an evening. Dave being Dave, he hugged his new bandmates and gushed a bit before saying his farewells. The drummer exited, with John packing up one of his two billion stringed instruments. "I bet your roadies hate you," Josh quipped, taking out the bandanna in his back pocket and wiping his forehead before stuffing it back. 

"They probably do, just too polite to say anything," was the immediate answer. 

"Is that a British thing?"

John stood up from the case, turned to the guitarist. "I'd say it's a respect one's elders thing." He stared hard, straight-faced, at Josh. He really knew how to make things uncomfortable.

Josh decided to up the stakes by lighting up a cigarette even though it was no smoking in the building.

"Look at you, flouting studio rules," Jonesy said sarcastically. 

"I'm a rebel, what can I say," the other man jibed, and took a drag. He studied the bassist quizzically, exhaled. "I always thought you were the quiet one. I think your ego is prob'ly bigger than the other two."

Jonesy chuckled, made his way to where the guitarist was standing. "What, little old me?" And he was little standing there in front of him, compared to 6 foot 4 Josh, whose shoulders were half as wide or more than John was tall. The bassist was used to much of the people, and the world, being bigger and flashier than him; it didn't mean he didn't have his merits, however. "I just play things and know things." He glanced up at the bigger man.

Josh eyed him, the way he said those last couple things, was he imagining it or was it flirty? Tension had rose and fell throughout the day, fuelling the creativity of the trio, but all of it hadn't burned away. He took another puff of his cancer stick, put it back in his mouth, for once not having anything witty to spout. 

John reached up, plucked the cigarette from the nicely shaped lips of the guitarist, and took a drag. "You're not making this easy," he said in that singsongy, posh accent.

"I don't? You're the most aggravating, smug little shit I've ever seen. Quiet one, my ass," he snapped, and pushed the other man to the console, flattening the smaller man against it, who stared up at him defiantly. He was clearly not intimidated by Josh's size, merely finished the cigarette, reached back, and snuffed it out in one of the cups of soda they'd left. _Bend to me, damn you,_ Josh thought. His next thought was how the bassist was old enough to be his dad, like how messed up was that? And a hero of his, a fucking legend. Light blue eyes bore into grey ones, feeding that energy, the intensity growing. The bassist didn't flinch, and Josh felt a bit guilty, why would he want to dominate someone so much older and smaller than him, and a guy to boot? Where was this coming from? 

He swallowed down nervousness and crushed that smaller body to his, covered Jonesy's full lips with his own. After a few seconds he felt the bassist melt into his arms and the kiss, one of his hands pressing on the back of the ginger head of the guitarist, deepening the kiss. When they drew apart, John grinned at him. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I take it this ain't British thing, just a weird old dude thing," Josh clapped back.

"Don't hold it against me."

"...Unless it gets hard," he snorted, finishing the bits of lyrics they'd been kicking around that day. He kissed Jones again, this time as the line stated, feeling the older man hard against his hip. His own jeans now felt constrictive, his dick straining against the stiff fabric. He was shocked to find how much he wanted the bassist, right here during recording. The sly grins, his manner both unassuming and unassailable, his keen mind and sense of humor, oh those hands, now unbuttoning his shirt, so nimble. Now the soft lips, brushing along his thick neck, causing him to groan. "You've gotten under...unnh..my skin, you fucker."

"Have I?" John said mock-innocently. "You've been under mine for a while." When Josh paused in surprise, Jonesy chuckled. "You're not the first big, goofy, sexy blond geezer I've ran across."

"You mean, you and--"

"Oh, shut it," he silenced Josh by putting his lips on the guitarist's lips, drawing out a needy moan. They ground their growing erections against the other's, shucked one another's shirts off, letting them fall to the floor.

Having had more than he could bear, he picked up John like he weighed nothing and swung him around to a table, knocking off the scattered pieces of equipment in his haste. Josh unbuttoned and unzipped the bassist's pants, found his engorged organ and began to stroke, enjoyed watching the expressions of pleasure in his face. Despite being in his 60s, he hadn't aged much at all since the Zeppelin days, his hair short now, a few creases, but he had held up. After freeing themselves from the rest of their clothes Josh found that compact, unassuming body had held up as well, the skin of arms and stomach a little looser than years ago when Led Zeppelin was trashing hotel rooms, but lean and covered in light freckles.

It was actually kinda cute.

Jones reached out and began stroking the guitarist's enormous cock, both pleasuring each other at the same time, devouring one another's lips, moaning into their clasped mouths. "Now," gasped John when their lips parted. "I need you. Now."

Josh was so lost in lust at this point he was ready to go, despite the misgiving about his body so much larger than Jonesy and his dick so large and hard. There was nothing to use around, but John was insistent, he didn't want preparation, he wanted Josh to fuck him, wanted it rough. Josh shrugged internally, spat on his hand and slicked it onto his tool. He lifted the bassist onto the table, parted his legs, and worked the head of his dick into John's entrance. "Yesss," the older man hissed. "Do it. Yes, do it." The guitarist sank in all the way, straining to push it in given the tightness and friction. Oh but the white hot pleasure when he was balls deep in Jones, was so good, he began to move and John wrapped his legs around Josh's waist though he was crying out in half-pleasure, half-pain. Josh didn't want to hurt him but he couldn't stop himself, Jonesy was telling him it hurt so good, just keep fucking him.

He found a bassist has impeccable timing and a keen sense of rhythm, as he matched Josh's thrusts like some kind of porn queen. With surprising strength John pulled Josh's face down to him, kissed him hard, while Josh fucked him senseless. At this point the table was taking only half of John's weight as the guitarist shifted and was holding Jones to him, the man's legs locked around him while he thrusted. It did the trick as Jones moaned out that was the spot. 

Josh then began slamming into him, hitting the prostate again and again, making the bassist fall to pieces, making him cry out. That thin, sharp body tensed, then shuddered when orgasm hit, and his hard, beautiful cock spurted, clear up to Josh's chest as he penetrated the bassist. Thick white jizz drenched Josh's belly and chest and Jonesy as well. Finally the spasms subsided, his balls having emptied their load of cream in one hell of a climax.

Josh was now jackhammering the nearly boneless feeling man who nevertheless managed to keep pace with the guitarist, faster, harder, harder. Josh cried out when he began to pump his seed deep into the bassist. "Ohhh, God, fucking fuck!" He roared, thrusting inside Jonesy until he'd spent himself completely. 

They were both a sweaty, come-splattered mess, and had to take a moment to catch their breath. 

Josh found that though John had been the bottom, he was the one who initiated and directed the whole thing. He manipulated the sexual encounter, though it was one of the most intense orgasms, and experiences, he'd ever had. John Paul Jones hadn't submitted at all. No, he was very much in charge.

It wasn't so bad, Josh thought. Jones knows what he's doing with most everything, especially musically. 

He kinda liked it.

[Joshua](http://fav.me/ddq3z7a)


	2. You Can't Always Do Right, You Can Always Do What's Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FRESH POTS!!
> 
> It seems I have the most unneeded and unasked for fanfic pairing hahaha! But I shall reign supreme!
> 
> This is based on the Fresh Pots era of Dave's career. Coffee. Lots of coffee. And driving his bandmates crazy.
> 
> Them Crooked Vultures maintaining the class and elegance we expect. no. Not really lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of [this incident](https://youtu.be/fhdCslFcKFU) and adding my own fan ficery.
> 
> FRESH POTS!

No One Loves Me

2

"What have you been feeding him?" John asked Josh bemusedly as Dave was making his 55th circuit of the studio, babbling gibberish. 

"Me?" The ginger-haired guitarist asked. "I didn't give him shit. I thought you mighta had some secret stash of super cocaine hid from back in the 70's."

Dave was now shaking the shit out of a tambourine and shouting "Fresh pots!"

Jonesy was slouched on the couch, finally was noticed by the over caffeinated drummer, who dashed, and took a flying leap onto the much smaller, older man. Dave was now laying in the bassist's lap going "JONESY I LOVE YOU, MAN! JONESYYYYY!"

"Dave. Bro. Dave, get off the poor man," Josh was saying, but unable to keep a straight face.

"Ok we're serious. Serious business, got an album to record!" Dave jumps up and runs to the drum kit. "LET'S DO DIS!"

"This is worse than any Robert cocaine fueled assfuckery I've ever seen," John observed dryly, then got to his feet.

"He's drinking like 5 pots of coffee a day, he can probably see the fuckin' future now," Josh chuckled and grabbed a guitar. "Ok let's suit up before ol' boy's head explodes."

Surprisingly things went well, they made good progress even though Dave got a little overzealous with some fills, and if there was something John and Josh was trying to work something out that didn't require the drums the dark haired drummer would leap up and run about grabbing random instruments and playing them intensely, and then steal coffee from random techs and drink it. "WOOO!" He whooped at one point before fastening himself to Josh and humping his leg. It was comical, as the huge, muscular, too much alcohol drinking fleshy guitarist dwarfed the drummer who really wasn't small, but he looked it next to Josh. It looked like a chihuahua dry humping a St. Bernard.

"Shall I leave you two to it?" giggled the bassist.

"You guyyyyys, I'm just excited!" Dave stopped humping Josh's leg to pick up a mandolin and did a shredding solo on it. "Besides, you guys can fuck later, I NEED FRESH POTS! HEY, JUSTIN! FRESH POTS!" Then he put down the mandolin and did an air guitar solo, complete with his own sound effects.

The other two musicians glanced at each other. Despite his laid back, goofy nature and now caffeine addiction, the guy missed little. "Dave, man, you can't just casually drop bombs like that--"

"S'ok, I won't. If you give me more coffee! Hehehe! BAND THREESOME!" Dave tackled poor Jones, who went down, bass and all, under Dave kissing him all over his face like an excited puppy.

"DAVE!" yelled Josh, who prised Dave off of a now bedraggled, venerable bassist. "Don't break our bass player."

John surprised everyone by laughing heartily. "Oh, dear god. We need to put him in a hamster wheel, he'd power all of Chicago! Oh, fuck me, this boy." He picked himself up, checked his bass and found it was unharmed, then turned to watch the Foo Fighters frontman trying to climb Josh like a flagpole to kiss him. 

"We should enter him in a marathon," Josh spoke as he was fending off the caffeine and sugar filled groping of his drummer. 

"How does he sleep?"

"I don't!" he exclaimed happily.

"Dave. Bud. You keep that up and we're gonna horse tranq you. Or wait..since he's so excited..we could fuck it out of him." Josh had that sparkle in those mischievous blue eyes.

"No, ohhhh no," John refused to be a part of it. "I got all that out of my system in Zeppelin."

"So what was that last night?" Josh challenged.

"It wasn't a three way with two chaps decades younger than me! We just need to hide the coffee and the horse tranquilizers sounds like a viable option."

Dave was purring "I love you guys. I mean it," while nibbling Josh's earlobe. He was starting to kinda like what the cracked out drummer was doing. "Uh. Well. John, you wanna have a break? I'm gonna drink a pot of coffee and wear our little munchkin out."

"Ooh, promises, promises!" Dave giggled as he was manhandled toward an empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, ideas, comments welcome.
> 
> I know, I'm a strange, disturbed individual lmao

**Author's Note:**

> You're welcome, I guess? Anyways it made me happy writing it, lol. Two of my favorite things, Josh Homme and John Paul Jones. Like a hot dog on a stick. Which is a corn dog. Which is pretty cool.


End file.
